Fred Grimes

Quick Facts

• Role: Elderly, limping stable manager for the Thorton family; mentor and grandfatherly figure to Ada
• First appearance: When Ada brings Butter to the Thorton stables for help
• Defining details: A “sort of running limp,” nearly bald head, and a gruff greeting—“Aye”
• Key relationships: Ada Smith; the Thorton family; his late wife; later, close ties to Susan and Jamie through Ada

Who They Are

Quiet, grounded, and unfailingly practical, Fred Grimes becomes a steady anchor in Ada’s healing journey. He does not sermonize; he hands Ada tools—literal and metaphorical—to build competence and dignity, reinforcing her growing identity and self-worth. His limp and weathered appearance signal a life of hard work, but his presence radiates stability. Through patient instruction and everyday kindness, he helps knit Ada into a found family, modeling care as action rather than show.

Personality & Traits

Fred’s exterior is spare—few words, blunt delivery—but his actions reveal deep kindness and respect. He embodies the novel’s ethic of ordinary heroism: a man who notices what hurts, fixes what he can, and makes space for a child to feel capable.

• Knowledgeable and skilled horseman: He immediately diagnoses why Butter won’t run—overgrown hooves causing pain—and trims them. He knows how to remedy a foal’s clubfoot and oversees every Thorton horse with meticulous care.
• Gruff but tender: His monosyllabic “Aye” masks attentiveness; he patiently instructs Ada, finds a sidesaddle to fit her needs, and gifts her his late wife’s knitting bag—a quiet, intimate gesture of trust.
• Hardworking and resilient: After younger stable hands enlist, he shoulders the stables alone without complaint, modeling wartime courage and resilience through steady effort rather than bravado.
• Perceptive and respectful: He refuses to define Ada by her disability, assigns her real work, and formalizes their equality by inviting, “Call me Fred.”
• Emotionally measured, morally clear: He rarely makes speeches, but when he does, his moral plainness cuts through euphemism and teaches Ada how care should look.

Character Journey

Fred’s arc is subtle: his character remains steady, but his bond with Ada deepens from a professional interaction to familial devotion. He starts as “Grimes,” the stableman who fixes Butter’s hooves and explains what hurts. Through teaching, shared labor, and small acts of consideration—like fitting a sidesaddle—he becomes “Fred,” a name that signals belonging. That transformation is crystallized after the bombing of Susan Smith’s home: Fred digs through the rubble, weeping with relief when Ada survives, revealing that duty has turned into love. By the end, he has folded both Ada and Jamie Smith into his world, proving that steadfast, practical care can reparent a child who has never been made to feel worth the trouble.

Key Relationships

• Ada Smith: With Ada, Fred is the rare adult who sees capability first. He teaches her horsemanship and stable work, offers tools tailored to her body (the sidesaddle), and never pities her—creating a space where competence produces confidence. His steady respect becomes a corrective to years of shame.
• The Thorton Family: Fred’s history with the Thortons is long and loyal. His late wife nursed Lady Thorton, her children Maggie and Jonathan, and Lady Thorton herself; that intimacy explains why Fred is trusted with the family’s most valuable animals—and why his stables become a safe harbor for Ada.
• His Late Wife: Though absent, she shapes Fred’s gentleness. By giving Ada his wife’s knitting bag, he shares a piece of his private life, signaling both grief carried well and the deliberate transfer of care from one generation of nurturers to the next.

Defining Moments

Fred’s influence arrives in quiet interventions that change Ada’s daily life—and therefore her sense of self.

• Trimming Butter’s hooves: He diagnoses pain, fixes it, and subtly rebukes neglect without blaming Ada, modeling care as responsibility rather than criticism.
• Finding the sidesaddle: He locates an old sidesaddle so Ada can ride securely despite her clubfoot, transforming a limitation into a practical pathway to mastery.
• “Call me Fred”: Inviting Ada to use his first name formally recognizes their friendship and equality; it’s a naming that confers belonging.
• Aftermath of the bombing: Fred’s frantic search and tears when Ada is found alive expose his paternal love. In a crisis, his reserve breaks, confirming that Ada is family.

Essential Quotes

“Aye,” he said, nodding, as though girls rode to him through snowstorms all the time, needing wool. He disappeared into the stables, and I heard him clop up the stairs to the rooms in the loft where he lived. He came down carrying a cloth bag printed in bright flowers. “It’s the missus’s knitting bag,” he said, thrusting it at me. “It’s full of wool. All sorts. You can have it.”

Fred’s rough monosyllable gives way to an intimate gift, moving from utility (wool) to memory (his late wife). The scene distills his love language: practical help that also invites Ada into his personal history.

“If someone gave you enough to eat, but didn’t keep you clean or healthy or ever show you any kind of love, how would you feel?”

Here, Fred articulates the moral core of caregiving: needs are more than calories. His plain-spoken question reframes Ada’s past not as her failure but as neglect, validating her pain and teaching her what real care entails.

“It’s just Grimes,” he said. “Mr. Grimes, that would be if I were a butler or something important, like. But if we’re going to be friends, you can call me Fred.”

The shift from title to first name is ceremonial in its simplicity. By redefining how Ada may address him, he redefines how she may see herself—with enough worth to be claimed as a friend, not merely a helper.

He flew it. We’d jumped the wall at last. Across the field I could see Susan standing in the back garden with Jamie and an adult I didn’t know. I kicked Butter on, flying down the field. “Jamie!” I yelled. “I brought you a piece of a Messerschmidt!” I pulled Butter up and patted his neck, laughing. “Did you see us jump?” I asked Susan. “Did you?” Then I recognized the woman standing beside her. Mam.

Though narrated by Ada and not spoken by Fred, this moment—jumping the wall—exists because of Fred’s instruction, hoof care, and the sidesaddle. The leap literalizes Ada’s newfound freedom and competence; Fred’s quiet mentorship is the unseen architecture enabling her to “fly.”